Wanna know why good ol' Alexa has gone off her rocker?

Because my father's idea of fun is springing long, boring events that I MUST attend under penalty of death on me at the last minute, and therefore I attend them and am bored out of my mind because my father could plan to go outside for five minutes and be out there for a whole two hours talking to the neighbors about their fourteen-year-old son tutoring me in calculus or some shit.

There. I'm sure you understand, huh?

What I'm trying to say is....my dad is a the most sarcastic, long-winded, ANNOYING bastard on the planet. He will tell you that he's only going to stay somewhere for five minutes and it suddenly winds up to be an hour, and he's not even done with his description of the lighting effects he used for his band's beachfront performance in '77 before they kick him out the door.

Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for the biggest crock of shit since the unfortunate Monica incident.

My dad told me that he needed to go to my aunt's house to borrow a chainsaw. A huge limb fell off an oak tree in his backyard and broke the fence, so he needed a chainsaw to break it into tiny pieces small enough for him to haul to the street.

Fine. Everything's hunky dory because I thought he meant my aunt that lives about five minutes away who is very cool, as far as aunts go.

But I must have misunderstood, because we ended up going to pay an hour-long visit to my aunt who has three annoying, constantly screaming children and lives a full HOUR away.

Mad? Me?!? Oh, never.

They were leaving to go to the beach the next morning, but my dad stayed until ten o'clock to talk about his recent visit to the same beach. The kids stayed up until my dad left, and you could totally tell my aunt was so pissed because the kids would NEVER go to bed now, and they'll NEVER wake up in time to leave.

I mentally apologized and was praying to all sorts of deities that she had mind-reading powers so she wouldn't do a double take and saw both our heads off with the chainsaw.

Right. And today he ran that god-forsaken chainsaw right behind my window and made it impossible to watch "Men in Black" without completely blowing my ears out.

Then he tells me he wants me to go to his old church with him this Sunday, the day before my birthday. So I tell him no and he got pissed and generally was in a grumpy mood, and I was worried about that because he was, after all, handling a chainsaw.

God, I really hope he's reading this. If you are, then I have a few questions for you.

1) Where did you get the address?
2) Why do you feel compelled to read any form of a diary of mine? Is it because you're a prying little son of a bitch or are you being paid to read it and give my stepmom the dirt?
3) What kind of asshole actually goes looking for their daughter's online diaries, especially after they made them shut down their last one because he didn't like the content and threatened to rat me out to my school about my plans to blow it up on field day?

All right. I wasn't really planning to blow up my school; I just said that to be controversial, like those crazed Columbine guys.

But my dad really did make me shut down my old diary, cheerleader. I wasn't just shitting you.

Oh by the way, did I mention that the whole time that he's busy generally being an asshole, he laughs a lot because he thinks that he's the damned funniest man alive?

No, Dad, you don't have a sense of humor I'm aware of.

Will the madness never end?

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This kind of relates to my bitchfest about my dad, but sort of not.

I met the Hot Algebra Muffin yesterday for the first time.

Have I ever mentioned him before? I don't think I have.

He's this guy my age that lives directly behind my dad. He's actually pretty cute but he's a complete math nerd. He actually took a course at Ye Olde Local College this summer so he could skip a math course and be ahead one year. He did it for fun. What kind of an idiot does math for fun? (But it always is helpful to know the airspeed velocity of a swallow.)

Oh please. Watch Monty Python, people.

But I digress.

I've known about Hot Algebra Muffin since Christmas, when he came over when I wasn't home once to drop off some stuff about a graduate school he's planning to attend, and is where his older sister now attends school.

(That's my dad for you. Always thinking ahead about eight years. Thanks a ton, Dad.)

But I never met him before yesterday. I saw him once mowing his backyard, which faces the backyard at my dad's house.

Yesterday, I was helping my dad clear some of the smaller branches of the Gargantuan Tree Limb that fell and destroyed part of the fance that separates our yards.

Oh, joy. It must have been fate.

What am I saying?????????

Anyway, he came outside and wondered what we were doing.

"Are you the cheerleader?" were the first words out of his mouth.

I looked very uncomfortable for about a second or two and then cleared my throat and said, "Um...yeah. That's me."

"She's been wanting to me you," Very Intruding Father says. My eyes pop out of my head and I gasp at his complete and blatant disregard for the fucking truth.

"What?? No, he's shitting you," I blurt out and then gasp, because I realized that I actually just insulted him. But thankfully, HAM laughs.

"Well, I just came over to say hi," he said. "See you later."

So I waved politely and laughed because I knew exactly what he was doing the second he got back in his house: he jumped around as he rejoiced at the thought of meeting a real live girl and he instantly jumped on his DSL-modemed computer and IMed his friends to tell them what just happened. He probably thinks now that HTML stands for Hormones, Testosterone, Manly, and above all things, Lexie.

Yeah. He's a computer nerd too. Kind of like me.

And he has the same deep, dark ocean tan that I do.

Actually, my idea of a deep, dark ocean tan is darkening up to the Buff Ivory makeup color. Seriously.

I'm not just full of shit this time. This actually could work. Let's go through the reasons why, shall we?

1) He stays inside on his computer all day, like me.
2) He's pale, like me, so I won't have to worry about not having the beachy-look that most perverted guys like.
3) He has dark, curly hair. I LIKE dark, curly hair, as dorky as it sounds.
4) Not only would we have a fantastic relationship, but he could help me with math, because he's like a fucking math genius! It would be, like, this total buildup of sexual tension through vertical motion problems. (Parabola. Paraboooooooooola.)

Is that fucking insane, or what???

I dropped a hint to my dad that it would be the most wonderful birthday present ever to wake up and be given coffee in bed by the Hot Algebra Muffin and then we could proceed to do a series of stimulating math problems (or so I would tell my father).

Oh, yuck it up. You were in high school once, too.

But you know what the sweetest part of it is? (And oh believe me, it gets sweeter.)

HAM applied to the school that I will be attending next year. And despite his total oddball calculus hunkish-ness, he was turned down. And although he might view me solely as a sex symbol or some airheady-cheerleader-turned-actress, he has to admit that I'M GOING TO SCHOOL OF CHOICE AND HE'S NOT!!!

BWAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!

He's probably sitting at his computer right now fanning himself and panting, saying to his mom and dad, "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

I get immense gratification just at the thought.

No, not the gratification you're thinking of, you perverted bastard!

But it's just too perfect. He can be my boyfriend and my proverbial math bitch at the same time. And how often do chances like that come along in life?

HMMMM??????

© alexa

The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!